


Our Truce | ErrInk (Error x Ink)

by Anonym0u5_x



Category: Undertale
Genre: Error Sans - Freeform, Ink, M/M, Multi, Multiverse, error, ink sans - Freeform, lgbtq+, undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 17:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17944268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonym0u5_x/pseuds/Anonym0u5_x
Summary: Error and Ink have been fighting since they knew each other. It was always meant to be this way, the glorified, worshipped, collective creator, versus the feared, powerful, deathly destroyer.But then, something changes. Ink gets curious on an area called the AntiVoid. After his discovery in the AntiVoid, his friendship with Error begins to blossom.





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Rated 13+ In hopes of a more mature audience, and because it has kissing, marriage and cuddling in it. 
> 
> Warnings:  
> •Mild gore, not often, chapter will have a warning  
> •Minor character deaths  
> •Late chapter updates

When he was first welcomed into the world, he was so grateful to be there. The permenant grin never left his face, never once was there a genocide. Never once was there any troubles. He never realised what was going on, if he knew at the time, he wouldn’t have taken advantage of it. He had everything he could’ve asked for though, a loving family, a beautiful home. A great life. He was happy and glad he was created. 

Then they started to disappear, one by one, the entities, the drawings, the au, slowly getting erased. He didn’t want to die. He screamed and sobbed and begged for help. And for some reason, his cruel creator only kept just him alive. So, he had to learn to cope with the white walls that surrounded him. He had to cope with the ongoing fear that his surroundings were getting smaller. He couldn’t cope.

He couldn’t cope.

He cOuLdnT cOpE.

He shouldn’t cope.

He shouldn’t 

He shouldn’t 

He shouldn’t

 

 

 

 

 

He shoved his own hand up his shirt and ripped out his soul that was pulsing with adrenaline. He started ripping his own soul in half, he screamed as the pain washed over him, and fell to the floor in agony. When he awoke, he had no fear of the white area. None that he could feel instantly. 

Slowly, the skeleton stood up, his pupils grey. His smile gone, instead replaced with a permanent expression of Bordom. 

Months passed, until suddenly, a new world opened up, his creator unburied him from her pile of trashed drawings. And started to improve his clothing, and the colour.

Colour. The thing that would change this skeletons life forever.

When he saw colours, he’d feel tingly, he’d feel.. something. That was pretty unnatural for him. But the skeleton liked the feelings the colours gave him, he liked that they gave him somewhat of a personality. He liked how he could act normally. So he took notes in a sketchbook he’d required.

‘Red - Anger, rage  
Orange - Bravery, courage, alert  
Yellow - Normal, Relaxed, Calm  
Green - Healing, Kindness (Jealousy in cases)  
Light blue - Understanding, Comforting  
Blue(or Cyan) - Sadness, discomfort  
Dark blue - Depression, anxiety  
Indigo - Outgoing, argumentetive  
Pink - Lust.  
Purple - Xxxx xx xxx xxxxxx xxx X-Xxxxxx  
Grey - Chaotic, Destructive.  
Black - Demonic, Uncontrollable.  
White - Empty. Back to having no soul.’

And so, the skeleton analysed which emotions he’d want, he designed a sash to hold the emotions in. And he designed vials to contain the colours. He decides to contain Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Light Blue, Blue, Indigo, Purple and White.

The white vial, he treated as his very own soul. A rubbish soul, but at least a temporary one. The skeleton, with his new emotions, was not satisfied with himself. He wore plain clothing, and had boring plain white bones. So once he discovered a pen than could stain his bones, he threw his shirt off and drew on his ribs and arms, he drew, for the first time. He drew swirled tattoos. 

After the discovery of the pen, the skeleton was amazed to realise that’s not the only thing he could change. He could change anything he wanted. How did he know this? Well. He drank too much green paint and puked up ink, which shifted into a small brush. A brush which he could paint anything and it would come to life.

So he painted a bigger brush, one that was actually taller than him, it had a beautiful carved mahogany handle with a golden brace wrapped around the end, connected to the fresh, smooth light brown bristles. The fresh bristles didn’t seem to last long. 

The skeleton immediately made himself some new clothes. He wore a fitted long sleeved black shirt that had a blue stripe on the outside of the arm, covering the shirt was a slightly more baggy, short sleeved light brown t-shirt. The sleeves had blue triangles on the outside of them, the center of the triangle lining up with the blue line.

He wore gloves to hide his boring white boned hands (also because he just liked gloves). He lower half was another story however, he wore skinny fitted leggings, and had his classical pale blue jumper tied neatly around his waist. On his feet, he brandished sneakers, with white soles, at the front they were blue and they slowly faded into a bright orange tiger print, both laces being tied neatly and with great care.

Finally, his favorite addition, a pale brown scarf around his neck, fashioned so the long part of his dropped down his back and reached his feet. The scarf slowly got a darker shade of brown as it followed his body. Now, on the skeletons skull, more accurately hai right cheek bone, was a splotch if ink form the mess he made.

He put the sash on, it drooping over his right shoulder and wrapping around the left side of his waist. Then he grabbed his trusty brush (that he had named broomy). And almost incidentally. By mistake or not, had swung the brush the wrong way, and encountered something that he had never seen before.

Undertale. 

The place he was based off, the people that used to be with him, the people he completely forgot about. His mind snapped, he couldn’t let anyone else be in that situation. 

Then he thought ‘..Who is anyone else?’ There was no one to protect. And that’s where he found his identity as the almighty creator. 

That’s how Ink started creating.


	2. The Glitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Error and Ink have been fighting since they knew each other. It was always meant to be this way, the glorified, worshipped, collective creator, versus the feared, powerful, deathly destroyer.
> 
> But then, something changes. Ink gets curious on an area called the AntiVoid. After his discovery in the AntiVoid, his friendship with Error begins to blossom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am so sorry that it took so long for me to update, I really lost the will to write and I had my exams coming up but with them out of the way I can finally relax and I decided to bring you guys an update!

_ ” Bravery is of the soul and wit” _

_ ”There must be a mistake!” _

_ ”You don’t understand...” _

_ ”Listen! Listen!” _

_ ”I’m important, ok...?” _

_ ”Just trust me.” _

_ ”I matter.” _

 

 

 

 

It had been years since the skeleton had come out of his shell, smile painted on his face, aus crowding and surrounding the multiverse he was now in charge with. It wasn’t his fault. Creators would whisper their ideas and if he refused they would yell and complain. He was the only god-like figure, a role model to them.

 

Of course when he was first introducing himself as “Ink, God of Creativity!” With a dorky smile and yet no expression or excitement in his ‘eyes’ everyone thought he was lying. Turns out the guy really can create. Each new au sparks joy and emotion inside of him. It’s almost like a drug.

 

Stood in one ~~au~~   **mistake** was a particular ~~sans~~ **Glitch**. One who was sat in his white prison, his different coloured pupils spiking, glitching, glaring through the portal at the colourful skeleton that caused the collapse of his au. He was determined that no more aus would collapse like his, his skeletal hands gripping and squeezing the navy blue scarf around his neck.

 

Some one had to stop that power hungry midget. And it would be him. The multiverse was getting no emptier after all. The Glitch told himself that this was for the better of the future, once the shorty stopped creating, he’d stop destroying.

 

_ ”Destroyer?” _

_ ”-has strings” _

_ ”always angry...” _

_ ”-_p082@$€ is gone!” _

_ ”...can’t be happening..” _

 

The Glitch opened his eye sockets, giving a crazed smile to the sans in front of him, a small skeleton with a blue scarf, his strings tightening as the skeleton is shattered to dust. He could only watch with pleasure, thinking to himself “GoOd RiDdAnCe”

The aus had the audacity to call him the mistake, he was the “Destroyer”, the grim reaper of aus. He would never stop unless the creator agreed. 

Thats when he got a stupid idea, yet own he thought would work effectively. He knew how stupid the creator could be. How the creator forgot everything, how the creator tried to blend in despite his lack of soul. 

He could trick the creator into coming to his home, his void. Then at the creators weakest moment he would wrap him up in strings and either kill him or force him to stop. That would do it. Even if he became an enemy, he only wanted justice. ....Right?

He shook his head, something nagging in his mind was telling him that this wasn’t right and he couldn’t fight fire with fire. These voices were ringing in his head, yelling at him all at different times, he felt himself curl over and dig his fingers into his head. A long time in a large white area would turn anyone insane. 

He never felt in control of himself, these voices screaming, his mind screaming, his body screaming, he was screaming, the au shattering and beginning to Glitch out, just like him, his blue tears getting brighter and more tears running down his bony cheeks.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps, and like that, everything fell silent. He felt himself look up, now on his knees from his breakdown. When he did look up he was surprised to get pushed to the floor, paintbrush to his throat. Red eyes shaped like targets glaring into his soul.

”So you’re the one who has been destroying my aus?”

It was him. It was the creator. The creator and destroyer had finally met, though, this wasn’t exactly on good terms and both of them weren’t planning to ever make it good terms.

 


End file.
